


Once Upon a Time, the Goblet of Fire Blazed Blue

by MistressGalahat



Series: Twelve Days of Stories [7]
Category: Ao no Exorcist | Blue Exorcist, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Book 4: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Exchange Teacher Bon, King of Gehenna Rin, M/M, Minerva and Bon brotp, Post-Series, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2016-12-14
Packaged: 2018-09-06 11:06:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8748130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistressGalahat/pseuds/MistressGalahat
Summary: The Goblet of Fire blazes blue in the night, standing alone on the cold, stone floor in the Great Hall of Hogwarts.Simultaneously, it makes Bon feel closer to Rin than he has been in years, as well as never being close enough to reach.





	

**Author's Note:**

> On the seventh day of Christmas  
> my true love sent to me:  
> Seven Letters Ablaze

 

The transition as a teacher from True Cross Academy to  Hogwarts had been… smooth.

Bon had no reason to complain. The classroom was much better than what he had been dealt in cram school. The students were somewhat interested in his Demonology classes on low level demons. And he was insanely glad that the old guy, Dumbledore, had decided to drop the Tri-something Tournament bomb on the kids, straight after introducing him at the Welcome Feast.

All those eyes resting upon him, had made him aware of just how stiff his uniform felt, how scratchy the wool was against his arm, and how Kuro had been chewing up his shoes under the table in spite.

Apparently, from the mutterings in the staff room, it was an almost yearly occurrence for there to be surprise staff rotation out of the blue. One guy had even been given such a terrible memory loss, it was two second years students who had dragged him out of a dangerous situation while simultaneously rescuing a possessed girl.

Granted, thought Bon, the possessed journal was the reason True Cross had even been called in the first place. Dumbledore had requested such a ‘capable young man’ to stay at Hogwarts for the duration of an event with two other wizard schools. To improve relationships. Which was essentially polite speech for;  _ Can I borrow your Hobgoblins for one of the tasks _ ?

Mephisto had grabbed the opportunity like the demon he was, assigning Bon to help out and teach the kid some life lessons along the way. It wasn’t the biggest change of scenery for him, and he did enjoy the new view of nature every time he went out for an early morning jog.

That he was there alone - or as alone as having Kuro with him could be - didn’t bother him. After everything, Bon was glad not to have to face Yukio at every meeting, or seeing Shiemi’s pitying eyes whenever they crossed paths.

Here, at the long table in the Great Hall with Hogwarts, Durmstrang and Beauxbatons’ students sitting shoulder to shoulder - there was not a pin nor banner out of place. All those brilliant minds eagerly awaiting the reveal of the Goblet of Fire. (Bon had yet to see it for himself, but from what he had heard in the corners, it was supposedly quite impressive).

Dumbledore rose, a hand whipping about and announcing the arrival of the aforementioned Goblet. It wasn’t as impressive to look at as one might have thought after all those rumours, thought Bon, but there was an aura of something different surrounding it, cloaking it.

He registered the boos of the students under the age limit that had been previously discussed by countless staff and delegations, and the cheers as Dumbledore announced the Goblet was now taking applicants for the position of School Champion.

Bon’s heart caught itself in his throat, pounding until his blood was somehow all too hot and all too cold at the same time. The flames licking and spitting from the Goblet, they were a brilliant blue. A shining beacon that had meant hope in more than one scenario that should have left their entire party dead.

It was hope and love and ambition and  _ heartbreak _ , all packed into one colour and corresponding element. Dumbledore must have had finished talking, as the excited babble from the students filtered in through Bon’s ears. The sounds were all underwater, and for all he knew, someone was drowning him in dry air.

He must have looked as though he had seen a ghost, quite unlike the ones roaming the halls of Hogwarts, as McGonagall tapped him on the shoulder. “Are you alright, Mr Suguro?” Her voice was kind, albeit distressed at his inability to form neither sentence nor words. They eluded him, just as Rin had done so too many years ago.

Kuro had stopped chewing on his shoes.

Bon’s tongue felt swollen in his mouth, the enamel on his teeth rough and unkempt like everything else in his life. He had yet to blink, the dancing blue flames demanding his attention. “I’m sorry… I -”

The table beneath his shivering hands rumbled and flipped under him as Kuro burst forth from underneath the tablecloth, his size larger than he had been since coming to Hogwarts, eyes wild and fur bristling. It was like a cannonball in slow motion, pelting from his confinements until the cat screeched to a halt in front of the flames, paws batting away as if he could somehow physically touch it.

The students let out frightened yells, a few of the braver souls pulling out wavering wands. Bon sprung up from his chair, the legs scraping against the floor and making McGonagall fall back in her seat out of surprise.

“Kuro, no!” He called, vaulting over the table and partially eaten dinner. The cat was furiously swiping a large paw at the twirling flames, large eyes thin in their distress. Mewls and growls echoed from the large chest of the demon, growing louder and louder until Bon had a chance to reach the Nekomata.

“It’s not him,” whispered Bon, stroking a hand through Kuro’s fur. He was painstakingly aware of the eyes on him again, judging and wondering all at the same time. Dumbledore’s twinkling eyes most of all, if the shiver going down his spine was anything to go by. Had the old man known that the flames would be blue? What it might mean for someone such as an exorcist? Had it been anyone but Bon or one of the other exwires that had learnt to accept the colour of it, then the situation could have turned disastrous within a small amount of time.

Kuro mewed again, a loud wailing sound that tugged at Bon’s sore heartstrings. The cat cried, trembling in his large form until he shrank enough for the teacher to bend down and pick him up from the floor. Remaining a limp weight in his arms, Bon could only ponder at the things Kuro must have been screaming at the dancing flames - hoping and begging that maybe, somehow, it would make Rin hear him. Make him remember the friend he left behind. (If Bon wished for the same, no one would be there to hear him admit it).

“My apologies for the interruption, Professor Dumbledore,” his words were hollow, even to his own ears, as he cradled the weeping cat closer to his chest. “I’m afraid I’ll take my leave for tonight.” He bowed as low as he could without having Kuro fall from his arms. His eyes were stinging, burning behind his half closed lids as he walked to the staff exit.

God, what the Hell had they gotten themselves into?

 

*

 

It felt like it had been weeks since the Goblet had revealed its coloured swath of fire. Taunting him every time he entered the Hall. Part him wished it to be a cruel joke, hoping to some foreign God that it would simple strike the hope from his chest before it could choke him for good.

Bon had found it necessary to ban Kuro from the Dining Hall, falling over the cat as he tried time and time again to get in front of those flames and bawl out pleaded mewls that Bon could never understand the meaning of.

Rin had been the demon whisperer, not him.

He was glad he hadn’t had any classes yet, to be fairly honest. He had slept like shit, if the tiny bouts of slumber could even be categorized as such. Bon was drained, physically and emotionally, and the school year had barely even started.

Kuro was curled up beside him on the bed, the cat’s hind leg jutting out every now as he mewed in distress. Bon had tried waking him the first few times, but the Nekomata never did responds as well to him as Rin had, barely batting an equally exhausted eye at him before falling back into a land of fitful dreams.

Bon hadn’t been able to close his eyes properly for the last four hours. His first class was in less than three, a double period with Gryffindor and Slytherin, the fifth years. From the sneer on Professor Snape’s face, and McGonagall’s answering scowl, he would be in for a wild ride of petty teenage rivalry. He needed his damn sleep.

The covers were too warm, and as he shifted around on the bed for what must have been the twelfth time, he heaved a sigh and rubbed his eyes. His back protested as he sat up, groaning at the awkward positions he had been fitfully resting in. Going to sleep was not an option Bon had available - not with all the thoughts of Rin swirling in his mind.

There was never a quiet moment with the idiot, even if he wasn’t around.

He had cleaned his work desk two hours before heading to bed, the little table facing the windows and looking out over the courtyard. The papers for the later lessons were compiled in the right year order, with a smaller bunch of flyers on extra Demonology classes for the interested parties from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. The School Champions were still a long way from being picked, and the interest in his class had grown tremendously as the few able students had seen more than a cat when Kuro had emerged from under the table.

It would be so easy to reach out and flick on his lamp. Grab a pen and a spare piece of parchment, and throw down the words burning him from the inside. He didn’t register he had moved until the cold stone floor beneath his feet left him shivering in a pair of boxers and a white shirt.

Kuro was snoring softly, undisturbed and unaware of the clash of inner wills echoing around him.

Bon growled, ripping half a sheet of parchment from his fresh stack, a mechanical pen clicking under his adept fingers, the led tip pushing gently against the paper. The words were in his head, all of them. Bland and tasteless on his tongue as they refused to leave the confines of his mind.

They were stuck in his head, ruthlessly, like angry hobgoblins smelling too much blood to be caught by exwires.

Bon cradled his head in one hand, his mouth chewing up the eraser glued to the top of his pen. The night was young and lively, no doubt, but he couldn’t bring himself to pen down those thoughts that had swirled around for the last six years since the incident happened.

“Always messing with me, Okumura…” He dropped the writing utensil with a furious slap on the wooden desk, fingers raking through his bleached hair as his back slumped in the chair. The ceiling was bare, devoid. Like him.

What would Rin do if he could see him? Caress his cheek ever so gently, pulling him into a gentle kiss while muttering reassurances through his red ears? Bon snorted, because in no fantasy would Rin not be slapping him silly for feeling so down about something from so long ago.

Bon drew a rattling breath, all the way down to his ribcage until he felt it expand painfully. Blissfully.

 

_ Rin Okumura. _

_ You’re an ass. _

_ Leaving Kuro behind. Your brother. Me. You have no idea what it did to every single one of us. And here I am, years later, and trying to write some shitty note to feel better, all because Kuro got upset about the colour of some stupid flames. It’s all your fault, really. I can’t even look at blue anymore without thinking of you. You broke me for good, Okumura. Wherever you are in Gehenna, or elsewhere, I hope you’re alright. If not, I’ll swoop down there and beat you  up until you are. (Kiss it better, if you ask nicely, moron). I loved you… Still do, because apparently I can’t just switch it off. It’s never been that easy when it came to you. I love you, Rin Okumura. Don’t forget that. _

__ \- Bon _ _

 

 

Fuck, it was like he was sixteen and blushing in front of Okumura all over again. A confession on the tip of his tongue that didn’t leave. Not until all they managed together were a scarce six months filled with blood and tears. Then Rin was gone.

Bon folded it neatly, a paper crane with words as wings to fly on. People said that if he suffered from heartbreak he should write down all of his regrets and burn it. Set it aflame and let it go with the smoke that would rise from the confession. Bon wondered if it worked the same way for heartache, too.

Kuro gave a little snort, ear twitching as the cat scurried around on the bed, half asleep and searching for another warm body to curl into. Bon left the crane on the desk, lifeless paper eyes following his every step till he let himself flop down to the soft matress.

The Nekomata stirred, but otherwise only shuffled closer with a sleepy mew, purring as he laid himself on Bon’s chest. His heart was beating out of rhythm, eyes searching for the stars glowing faintly in the light of oncoming dawn. With fingers petting Kuro’s rising and falling flank, his eyes drooped.

He would stay awake for now, that state in between actually sleeping and knowing you had to be up and alert soon enough.

In a few hours, though.

In a few hours, he would get up just before the student rush for breakfast would clamour the Great Hall. Bon would let Kuro put an inked paw print on the silly, flying paper crane, and together they would throw it into the Goblet of Fire, trying once more to let go of a part that meant the world to them.

 

*

 

It had been over a day since Bon and Kuro had let the letter disappear into unholy fires with the thought of one of Satan’s sons filling their heads with happy memories. The sake Rin would bring Kuro whenever he felt down, or a mission had been successfully completed. The bentos he would bring Bon when they first started going out, the ones that gradually focused on simply providing enough food that they didn’t starve after having spent days upon days in the field.

Their crooked love had been born in a brief respite of happiness, and had been forged in the bloody heart of a war against Gehenna.

Bon had had trouble keeping his mind in a good place when he had shouldered through the first lessons of the day. His classes had gone over well, especially as Kuro was more than willing to lend a hand or knock over the table of a non-believer. Having a demon cat as a friend was actually proving to be more helpful than Bon had hoped.

Not that his methods hadn’t sparked a certain amount of - well, questionably curiosity. The Slytherin students had by far been the worst of the lot, next to the Ravenclaws. The first either entirely caught up in this ‘fantastical world’ of otherworldly beasts that did not depend on magic. Or the latter, claiming to be able to disprove of these ridiculous disillusions.

When he calmly told them that he had no wand, and therefore could not use spells to assist him in his ‘showing of fake creatures from Gehenna’ it had only served to further increase the confusion. And for the muggle student body to question if he was a squib.

Bon explained that no, he wasn’t a squib nor a muggle, but an exorcist - only a few of them had understood what the word meant. One particularly foolish half-blood Slytherin had the gall to laugh him in the face, Kuro growling beneath the boy’s feet, just about ready to turn toes into ribbons.

He had then very clearly told them that, no, no wand would be needed in his classroom from his side of things. But he did a gun, legal to carry at all times, even at Hogwarts. For the non-muggle students, it had veered into a strange explanation of a curse called an Avada Kedavra and comparing the two to each other. It served its awkward purpose and got the more persistent students to hold back on their rapid fire questions.

As it was, Bon was having dinner in a crowded hall with a pounding headache and a deep seated wish to go to sleep as soon as possible. Or, at least as quickly as Professor Dumbledore could wrap up the silly feast and let the students head off.

Bon had also been quick to learn about the different teachers and staff members.

Filch was by far the most uptight and nitpicky person Bon had ever had the misfortune to meet. Flitwick was an interesting character with theories and knowledge of both the wizarding world and Bon’s home of True Cross. Snape was a grumpy Okumura-sensei. Moody was moody, if not a tiny bit weirder than he was used to dealing with. And Hagrid…

Hagrid was demon spawn of some kind, Bon was sure of it.

Snape, on the other hand was the actual kind of spawn that one would want to punch. He had been fairly warned that the Professor of Potions was prickly at best of times, and unreasonably unfair at others. That he acted that way with teachers too had Bon run hot with anger through rapid fire discussions, but Kuro would wind up in his lap and somehow calm him down by demanding attention.

McGonagall, she was Bon’s favourite, though. Old, strong, driven. Tried and tested in the art of combat and loss of loved ones. Having been through more than Bon figured he had been told, sitting next to the older lady felt like an inspiration of light was shining in his face. She was alive and happy, not without her own pieces of darkness lurched in her soul, but she was far from letting them define her.

Sharing meals with McGonagall as his neighbor in the Great Hall was a bit like sitting at home with his mother having just cooked dinner. Renzou, and Shima, and the rest of the families all gathered to celebrate another well behaved day in their lives, cursed temple or not.

“Did your classes go over well with the students?” The words left Bon’s mouth naturally, his interest in both keeping her as a friend, as well as a genuine interest in the subject she taught.

McGonagall dabbed the corner of her mouth with a napkin, wiping off the tiny drop of pumpkin soup that had missed her lips. “Why, yes, Professor Suguro, the new students are all very adept with the material I have provided them. It is rare to come across such a gifted generation of students from all four Houses, and yet I cannot colour myself surprised at this fact.” She said it a bit louder than Bon otherwise would have pegged her to do, fully aware that both the head of Durmstrang and Beauxbatons were in nearby range for a verbal jab.

Bon clinked their goblets together in a small toast. “Indeed, Professor McGonagall. First time teaching Hogwarts students, but I have to admit they are much smarter than most of the kids I usually teach back at the Academy.” Not necessarily true, at least not yet, but Bon had a feeling he might be proven right about his theory once he had the fourth year Gryffindors tomorrow evening. (Hermione Granger was a genius, and not a self proclaimed one either. Okumura-sensei level genius, or so he had been told by Mephisto).

The Headmaster from Durmstrang snorted from down the table. “Then perhaps,  _ Professor _ Suguro, your Academy has too low standards for accepting students.”

Oh, he did not just open that can of worms.

McGonagall stilled beside him, her dainty hand setting down the goblet while her eyes asked if he required a hex to help the dear Headmaster of Durmstrang find his polite words. Bon shook his head slightly, he could was well versed in the art of talking with different agendas. Heck, he had learned with Rin Okumura for crying out loud - the guy could be so stupid and smart at the same time it was beyond scary.

Bon kept his goblet in one hand, swirling the contents before taking a small sip. “As I recall it, students for neither of the three participating wizard schools require an advanced entrance exam, nor the continuation of muggle studies on the side. Besides, if the kids we teach from Blue Cross Academy aren’t ready when we let them out, they die. While you may not have that problem, Headmaster Karkaroff, we find it wise not to allow in students who may pass on paper, but freeze in the field.”

Karkaroff sputtered, face red, while Headmistress Maxine snorted behind a large hand and Dumbledore himself gave a chuckle.

Bon continued. “That  _ is _ what the Triwizard Tournament is about, isn’t it? About who is best equipped from each school. Although you only choose one, whereas every student of ours has to prove themselves or they will fail the test and be thrown from the program.”

Dumbledore silenced Karkaroff with the simply wave of a friendly hand, ensuring the argument died out before another retort could be thrown out. “Behave, gentlemen, I would like to see my Great Hall continue with a cordial behaviour among staff and guests.”

Bon grunted. “Sorry.”

Karkaroff didn’t apologise, only sneered and leaned in to whisper something in Snape’s ear - the two slimy creatures having stuck together since the Durmstrangs had arrived in an underwater ship.

Dumbledore stilled, a reprimand on his tongue that stilled and never got out. His eyes turned swiftly and with purpose, shining in the light as he stared straight into the Goblet of Fire. Now that Bon noticed, the flames were growing higher than he had seen them before, except for when a student tossed a piece of parchment into the flames. Or when Fred and George had tried to sneak past the ageline earlier that day and ended up with twin beards.

“Minerna.” Said Dumbledore, not rising from his seat just yet, but on the verge of doing so. Bon laid a hand on the concealed gun hiding beneath his cloak. Kuro was curled up in his lap, which wasn’t exactly ideal if he had to move fast, but the nekomata was more than capable of landing on his own feet it Bon deemed it necessary.

He didn’t have to, as Kuro stirred on his own, eyes thin and slit, they too seeking out the Goblet as some sort of beacon beckoning the cat forward. The fluffy ball of warmth left Bon’s lap, out of his reach quicker than he could stop the cat from charging at the Goblet of Fire again, although this time keeping his smaller stature and not trying to bat at it.

Kuro mewed loudly, distracted and puzzled. Curious. Uncomprehending.

McGonagall bolted up from her chair as the flames rose and roared, an incomprehensible mass of white and blue swirling and rising till it had nearly reached the ceiling of the Great Hall.

The students had grown quiet at the sight of unexpected commotion. Having McGonagall on her feet quicker than someone could say ‘whippersnapper’ was a fair enough indication - even for the foreign students and the newbie first years - that something out of the ordinary was transpiring. And not necessarily the good kind that involved Fred and George, and maybe a few props from Zonko’s.

As quickly as the flames had grumbled, the Goblet fell silent again.

Minerva reached it first, wand raised and staring at the object as though it had done her a great, personal grievance for the scare it had put them all through. Kuro remaining sitting, two tails wagging as he locked eyes on something floating down gently, his paws reaching and reaching for something he wouldn’t be able to have in his claws anyway.

A singular piece of scorched parchment. Not a thin strip like the ones students had been using to sign up for the tournament, but a proper sheet filled with tiny scrawls.

McGonagall snatched it out of the air, eyes hard as she read the top of the page, the letters penned much larger than the rest of it. Not a single whisper echoed across the Great Hall, a collective breath neither released nor truly held. She cleared her throat, eyes squinting.

“For Suguro ‘Bon’ Ryuuji. The Princess.”

Bon flushed a crimson red from the neck and up, ears burning as even the staff turned to gawk at him instead of Minerva. His heart was a thumping hobgoblin, crazed and enraged on the smell of blood.

In his case, it was the use of an old dumb nickname Rin had given him.

It took him three tries of opening his mouth before his tongue finally clicked and he stuck out a hand, praying that the students were oblivious to his slightly puffy eyes. “Please,” he said, body already lowered in a half bow. “Please, hand it over to me. I - I’ve been expecting a letter.”

“From the Goblet of  _ Fire _ ?!” One student squeaked and was immediately hushed by the nearest fifty students. Because yes, Bon pondered, it would be weird for an outsider to think that the Goblet could pen down a letter. They didn’t know what the blue flames meant, or what they represented. (That pounding hope threatening to burst his ribcage from the inside out at the mere thought that  _ Rin _ had written that).

“Please,” he said again, holding out one hand as Kuro began threading himself between McGonagall’s legs. Never one to be left out of a conversation, that cat. “Please.”

Something in his voice must have quivered. Giving away that he had waited  _ six years _ to hear from this person hiding behind words and a piece of paper. That the separation between the two of them had not been by choice, but by a force greater than both of them combined and then some.

McGonagall stuck the letter into the palm of Bon’s hand. “Very well. But I demand an explanation by breakfast tomorrow at the latest, young man. Do not disappoint me, Ryuuji, as I can only imagine that I am in for quite the tale.”

Bon clutched the letter close to his chest, nodding once to McGonagall and once to Dumbledore, taking his leave for the night without waiting for confirmation. Because in his hands were the first words to have been received from Rin since the war ended and he had gone missing.

The hall he had walked into was deserted, with everyone still gathered at the Great Hall. Filch was possibly lurking in the dark corners, or maybe Mrs Norris, but Bon could live with that. Could live with the way Kuro was clawing his way up from his leg and onto his shoulder in an effort to read what he knew was from his old friend.

Bon slumped against the stone wall, the material rough and chipped under his fingers. It grounded him for just a moment before he heaved a breath, closed his stinging eyes and opened them again with a lingering hope.

 

_ For Suguro ‘Bon’ Ryuuji. _

_ The Princess. _

_ God, I don’t know what to say. To write. Dammit, I’m already messing this up, Bon… I hope you can read my chicken scratch, ‘cause I haven’t improved my penmanship. _

_ The thing is, I never wanted to leave any of you behind. I hope you know that. But after we got rid of Satan, after everything that happened - Gehenna itself demanded its scale of balance to be restored. And as the only one to inherit the blue flames, I had no choice. _

_ I can’t leave. Trust me, I tried so many times, but nothing works. This world is crooked and bent out of shape on so many levels that even I can understand why Amaimon turned out to be such a nutcase. Mephisto as well, I guess, but honestly he’s the best of the bunch of us, believe it or not. Sorry, I’m having a hard time knowing that you’ve held the letter I’m sitting with. That it’s been in your hands. Tell everyone I miss them. _

_ And I love you too, stupid Bon, so you better send me more letters, got it? _

__ \- Rin _ _

 

 

He wiped the few stray droplets from his face that had yet to fall, Kuro purring and rubbing his head against Bon’s cheek. Rin was asking him to send more letters. To communicate and stay in touch in this weird way that they had somehow connected through.

And that… that was a promise Bon could keep.

 

*

Bon was beyond tired, a yawn crawling over his face as the students filtered into the classroom. He had penned a response after reading Rin’s return letter, sneaking down to the Great Hall with Kuro pawing at his feet.

He spent the night sitting backwards on a chair, staring into the twisting, blue flames as letters and notes were spat through the Goblet as if it was a portal to some distant land. Which it technically was, considering it apparently had the ability to communicate with part of Gehenna.

Still, Bon wouldn’t have traded a few hours of sleep and not gotten any more words from Rin. He could sleep at another time, when he wasn’t busy trying to find out how the heck space and time worked for a Goblet blasting out blue flames of Hell.

“Are you okay, Professor?” Asked one of the fourth years. Bon scratched his head and nodded as another yawn made him shiver. The student was wearing red, so undoubtedly a Gryffindor. Neville Longbottom, was that his name? Bon waved him off, he couldn’t be bothered to learn the name of every single student within couple of days of meeting them. “I’m fine, no need to worry… Take a seat and we’ll get started on today’s lesson.”

Longbottom blushed at the direct address, but plunked down in a seat before the rest of the students had found their ways to empty table and chairs. The Slytherins were quicker to scout out the open spaces at the edge of the classroom, not more than a single soul or two brave enough to gather their things and have a seat in the front.

The Gryffindors were astonishingly different, with their bright chatter and careless attitude about where they ended up, as long as they didn’t have to rub elbows with their Slytherin neighbours. Bon had been told of the bad blood between the two houses, as well as their criteria that got them accepted into said houses, but he honestly had not imagined the rumours to be quite as true as they turned out to be.

This was going to be one long ass class, that was for sure.

“Okay!” Called Bon, slapping his hands together and waiting for the last few snickers and whispers to die out on their own. “Fourth years, Gryffindor and Slytherin, neither of you have attended one of my classes yet, is that correct?”

He got collective groans and muttered affirmatives in response. The bushy haired girl in the front row, robes lined with a red trim and a lion patch already had out a quill and a stack of parchment paper in front of her.

“So does anyone in this room know what a  _ mashou  _ is?” All the students had been given pre course material they had been required to look over before the school year started out. How many of them had actually done the assigned homework, that was the proper question he was waiting for.

Out of all the students in the room, an approximate of five raised their hands. Three Slytherins and two Gryffindors, the latter being the aforementioned bushy haired female. Hermione Granger, Bon had no doubt, as he saw her practically vibrate out of her seat from excitement at knowing the answer.

He nodded in her direction. “Miss Granger, if you would kindly inform the rest of the class who have not finished the coursework they had been assigned.”

Hermione Granger took down her hand, a wide smile spreading over her cheeks as she tugged a strand of brown hair behind one ear. “ _ Mashou _ , or otherwise known as a ‘temptaint,’ is an ancient Buddhist term, meaning demonic hinderance. It’s a wound inflicted by a demon, and results in a person being able to see demons that otherwise wouldn’t exist on the physical plane. In exorcist culture, one cannot become an exorcist without having received a mashou.”

Wow, the girl really  _ was _ as smart as the rumours had mentioned. Impressive. “Correct, Miss Granger. Five points for Gryffindor for that explanation.” He scratched the main points onto the blackboard with white chalk, not minding the snickers of incredulousness from the Slytherins as he didn’t do the motion with magic.

“There are two planes of existence, Assiah, which is where our human world recedes.” He tapped the chalk against the board, writing neat and underlining the key terms. “And Gehenna, the demon dimension. These two exist next to each other, a mirror image of a reflection, some might even say. Demons ran out of things to do in their own dimensions, and realised they could come to Assiah by possessing material substances. In its purest form, that is the basic principle of demonic possession.”

“Wait, can we get possessed, like, all the time?” Squawked a Slytherin girl, her eyes flying from her inspection of painted fingernails to gawp at Bon’s writing.

He snorted. “Not quite. Possession happening to people is very rare, as most demons are common and have limited power. If anyone in this room has received a mashou without realising it, then you can see specks of something black floating around.” He poked at a coal tar flying too close to his face. The students’ heads flew around in every direction, hoping to catch a glimpse. A few eyes dawned in comprehension, and Bon noted the ones who reached a hand and managed to touch them.

“What you have there is a coal tar. A basic, low level demon that technically can’t harm anyone. They are more like flies than anything - attracted to dark and dank places, and tends to swarm around people with dark natures. They exist in Assiah by possessing fungi, flecks of dust and the occasional dirt.” He wrote the name down too, just in case a few of the students had been sleeping until their neighbours started to poke at thin air.

Miss Granger frowned, scratching down a few notes on her parchment and then raised her hand with a flourish. Bon cocked his head at her, prompting her to fire off the question that seemed to burn on her mind. “The material you provided us mentioned a lot of demons. And the frequency with which they appear and how to best deal with them regardless of a mashou. But comparing the statistics provided with the actuality of life at Hogwarts, it would appear there has been nowhere near as many demons present on school grounds that there should have been…” She trailed off, as if she thought hard enough by herself she might be able to unveil the mystery all on her own.

Bon was severely tempted to give her extra points for noticing something so out of order that only a genius would have picked up and compared the information provided. He refrained from handing out the points, though, as the Slytherins were scowling, decidedly unhappy, as Miss Granger stole the spotlight of the class. (He could praise her afterwards and pull her aside. Maybe ask if she was interested in more material, if he could get Okumura-sensei to sniff out some books in written English).

“My apologies for that, the coursework I provided has been outdated as result of a somewhat recent event that ensured a depopulation of the demons possessing material substances in Assiah.” There was no other way than biting the bullet, even if Hermione Granger was already on his case again, not even raising her hand as a thought struck her.

“But isn’t it strange that the coursework hasn’t been updated again, then? I would assume that a decrease in the demonic population would be counted as a victory and immediately penned down as a pivotal moment of exorcist history?”

So many questions, and Bon was way too tired to deal with all of that. Oh well, it would seem that Miss Granger’s flow of words had managed to spark the interest of not only most of the Gryffindor students, but also a fair amount of the Slytherin students. The green, robe wearing wizards and witches were definitely more subdued in their interest, but Bon could sense it nonetheless. Damn young people and their stupid curiosity.

“Six years ago, the exorcists from True Cross - the fraction where I’m from as well as a few others - were faced with a situation that resulted in the death of Satan, the King and Lord of Gehenna at the time. There is no way to describe it for you, but just know that it was a genuine war between Gehenna and Assiah. People died - good people… All I can think of is that they made this world a better place than it had been before, and for that I thank them all.” Ah, and there he went straight to the sentimental part of him that still woke him with nightmares of burning blue and smoking flesh.

“Satan?” Cried Miss Granger, eyes wide and pen dropped to the floor. Oh, thought Bon, that was right, a lot of the Gryffindors were muggles, or at least half. The Slytherins were leaning in to listen with a partial ear as well as some of the other Gryffindor students shot off a rapid fire explanation about what the heck Satan was.

Bon wrote the name down in big, bold letters and underlined it twice for good measure. “Yes, Satan. The King and Lord of Gehenna.” He tapped the blackboard unnecessarily hard. “Was in charge of the invasion that led to a full scale war six years ago. Had seven demon sons, and a further two sons, who were born to a human woman, so that would be a total of nine.”

Granger was scribbling down like mad, as was a few of the odd Slytherin students. Not necessarily because they knew about Satan, but most likely because the topic was riveting for a young mind who had yet to see true horror.

The tapping of a quill against parchment paused momentarily as Bon waited for them to finish taking notes. Granger frowned, raising her hand again slowly as the question formed in her mind and didn’t quite make sense the way she wanted it to. “But how would someone know if the person in front of you was Satan? How would you  _ know _ ?” She sounded desperate, and perhaps well rattled at the notion. Not that Bon could blame her, Satan had been a particular brand of nasty he wasn’t eager to come across again. Ever.

Neville Longbottom looked just about ready to wet himself at the thought of Satan popping up in the nearest corner.

“Satan was known for only possessing living material substances - primarily human or larger mammals. His power was much too great for Assiah, which meant that most bodies lasted him only seconds or minutes. This phenomenon happened only once on a larger scale; the Blue Night. Satan possessed clergymen and priests all around the world, popping from one body to the next until in the end there were very few exorcists left.” He should know, his whole childhood had been based on that cursed night.

Granger remained unsatisfied, even as her fellow students were nervously twitching in their seats. “Why did Satan do it? Did he just decide to kill a lot of people or was there an actual reason behind it?”

Clever little minx, that Miss Granger.

Bon snorted at her words. “As it turned out, yes, there was a reason. The woman who carried Satan’s children gave birth the very same night, dying as she brought the two twins into Assiah. Only one inherited Satan’s power, his bright blue flames that only he had been known to summon and bend to his will.”

“Blue fire…” muttered Granger. “But the Goblet of Fire is blue!”

Another Slytherin yelled over Granger, blonde hair in a disarray. “Hang on a second, you’re saying that Satan has two sons walking around in this - this so called Assiah? They’ll kill us!”

Bon snapped the chalk in his hands, rendering the Slytherin silent as he lowered himself back down in his seat. “Satan is bad, we can all agree on that, right?” Collective nods like good little sheep listening to their teacher. “However, as many of you know; and that means whether you’re pureblood, half or born of a muggle family, your parents don’t define you. Satan’s youngest sons are nothing like one might think, so don’t go judging them based on their ass of a father!” Maybe that was a little harsh, as Kuro stirred from slumber at the sound of his raised voice. He was just so tired at hearing people judge Rin and Yukio based on their parents. Heck, he had been judged enough himself.

“You keep talking about Satan in past time.” Said Hermione Granger with a small voice. Bon blinked.

“Huh?”

“Past time. You only talk about Satan in past time, why is that?”

Bon heaved a deep breath. God, he craved a cigarette right now. The class had gone from attentive to downright scared to Hermione Granger setting forth all the important questions Bon had thought he could avoid for the first three classes at a minimum.

He slumped down in the chair behind his teacher’s desk, putting his booted feet up on the table and leaning his head back to stare at the ceiling. “Satan’s dead. Has been for six years,” he said. “So I don’t want to hear anyone say a single bad word about the youngest sons of Satan, alright? Those two won the war against him, and because of that, Rin Okumura is stuck wearing a crown from Gehenna that he never wanted.” Ah, he spoke too much again, didn’t he?

“Are you saying you know Satan’s sons?” Piped Longbottom with the tiniest voice Bon had ever heard. And seriously, this was turning out to be an interrogation, he was sure of it. It was a good thing Kuro was sleeping through it all, or the whole discussing Satan thing might have sent the nekomata off into a fit.

“Yeah, they’re both friends of mine. Yukio was my teacher at Blue Cross Academy, before I became an official Exorcist. And Rin…” How to describe the guy who was constantly either making him feel extremely good or extremely annoyed? “Rin is that type of guy who doesn’t know when to quit. Came in handy quite a few times during the war.” No need to tell them exactly how close he had been with the Okumura twins, especially the older one of them. And Rin had definitely been persistent and stubborn in his pursuit of Bon.

Granger put down her quill, decidingly final, as if she was done taking note for the class. True, the module was coming to an end, but she didn’t seem the type to pack up and leave before every last second of the class had ticked by.

“So the blue flames from the Goblet of Fire, they belong to the King of Gehenna - who was previously Satan, but is now controlled by his son, Rin Okumura, whom is also your friend?” She stumbled a bit on the Japanese name, but powered through it with confidence.

“Correct, Miss Granger, where are you going with this?”

She paused, flittering around a ripped piece of paper and rolling it between her fingers. She couldn’t meet his eyes. “Evidently, that must mean that the letter from last night’s dinner, was meant for you… And that you most likely send a letter back in return. But what will you do when the Goblet of Fire stops being active on Thursday? Presuming you don’t have any other way of communicating with your friend, of course.” She added the words like they were nonchalant and didn’t carry an important message. As if it was just something from the top of her head that she couldn’t stop pondering about.

Bon’s blood froze, lungs seizing up and his heart disappearing with the vigour of a freshly summoned Naberius.

Fuck. Why the Hell hadn’t he thought of that?

He took a breath and tried not to let his voice crack. “Class dismissed.”

 

*

 

Bon had spent every night since that fateful class huddled up to the Goblet of Fire, throwing letter after letter into the bright fire and awaiting a response. Sleep had been nonexistent, and Kuro was insistent in his wish to remain by Bon’s side and read the notes with him. There was no way he could tell the nekomata no, even if some of the papers did carry a more defined and romantic tone than he was comfortable with other people reading.

It was a good thing Kuro couldn’t actually repeat some of those lines, because damn, Bon was keeping those for later, that was for sure.

And if he was more subdued at dinner this Thursday than he otherwise would have been, then yeah, people could shut their faces and let him mourn in peace. Finally having found a way to communicate with Rin, to know that he was alive and well despite having the crown of Gehenna weighing on his head - only for it to be taken away in such a small amount of time. He hadn’t even been given enough time to let Yukio and the rest of their friends know what was going on.

(Although, considering everything, it was most likely that Mephisto already knew about his younger brother being the new King of Hell, and had chosen not to inform them out of some weird twisted scheme in his mind. One day, Bon was going to kick his tailed ass back to Gehenna, for good measure).

McGonagall had been supportive when he had explained the basic principle of why he had freaked out so bad the first night his letter had been returned. Snape and Moody had been intrigued by the concept of Hell, but ultimately cared more for the creatures than Bon’s long lost friend. Dumbledore had said nothing, letting Minerva take the lead on the interrogation, with Karkaroff and Maxime adding a few pieces here and there.

His subject of demonology was far from popular to begin with, and with his tales of evil Lords and Kings and Princes, almost all had been left pondering how sane Dumbledore must have been when he hired Bon. Not very, if he had to make a guess himself, but McGonagall had also given him a brief and somewhat awkward hug, letting him know that if he needed someone to talk to, she would be more than willing to lend an ear.

He appreciated the gesture, he really did, and she was the only person, staff and student, to know the exact nature of his relationship with Rin. And why it was hitting him so hard that after tonight he would have hard time getting into contact with his lover again.

Dumbledore rose from his chair, robes billowing in a nonexistent breeze and fluttering about like the wings of a phoenix. “Students, honored guests and future champions. The time has come for the Goblet of Fire to choose three who are worthy to represent each of their schools.”

Not that it was actually the Goblet of Fire that would choose. Rin had been pretty certain in his last letter that the decision fell to him, and that all he had to do was pick out three names he thought sounded like the better chance at not dying. What was in a name, one might ask, especially in the hands of someone as immature as Rin Okumura.

Bon had given up on explaining the process from a wizarding standpoint to Rin, as the notes grew longer and longer with more technical terms. And in return, Bon had tried countless times to explain how the Goblet wasn’t actually sentient like the sorting hat, but rather worked as a portal to a mirror dimension where one individual choose three champions at random. It hadn’t gone over too well for either parties, and he had been forced to throw in the towel before his head exploded from ignorance.

So yeah. Not actually the Goblet doing the choosing, but he was done arguing.

“As many of you know, only those above seventeen has been allowed to put down their name in exchange for a chance at fame and glory. All of those brave enough to do so, has earned my respect, and that of my fellow headmaster and headmistress as well. No matter who will be chosen, all the people in this room, young and old, have proven themselves to be brave, either through support or action of both friend and foe.” Dumbledore never looked stern, never. But he did spend an extra second with lingering eyes on the Gryffindor and Slytherin tables.

“Three of you will rise, and only one will claim the title of Triwizard Champion. I wish you the best of luck, and hope that you do not regret your decision to represent your school, through thick and thin. Best of luck to you all.” Dumbledore didn’t sit, nor did he stop smiling. He never stepped closer to the Goblet of Fire, but waited patiently for the first piece of parchment to come to him instead.

Bon found it incredible that someone could exude such an overwhelming presence, that even Rin’s flames somehow bended to the man’s will. The fire roared, brilliant and slow for a few more seconds. Languid and rushed in the same moment. Alive and dying.

The wizarding world truly was a conundrum unlike any other.

In the next moment, Bon started in his chair as the blue fire moaned and spat out a piece of paper like flaming spittle from the maw of a monster. Licking and hissing but never once backing down from the challenged presented to its feral mind.

Kuro started too, the fur on his two tails puffing out until they looked incredibly akin to a typha in bloom. He hadn’t cried out yet, and Bon thought that maybe, just maybe, it was because they knew that now Rin was alive. That was more than they had known before, all fearing that he could have vanished in the face of his father’s flames and there had been no body to be recovered. That a rift in dimensions might have swallowed him before he got back. 

That he had left them all behind to start anew.

Bon was personally glad that hadn’t been the case, even if Rin was stuck in Gehenna with a body that could no longer be useful in Assiah without crumbling like dust.

Dumbledore snatched the parchment out of the air with a well placed hook of a hand, eyes twinkling as he cleared his throat and commandeered the Great hall into an anticipated silence. The teachers fell into step, the energy in the large room obnoxious with fright, and tingling excitement that burned at the back on one’s throat.

It was difficult for even the best of them to not be overwhelmed by the sheer amount of feelings pouring out of the students. Each with a drier mouth than the next, fingers tapping relentlessly and goblets of pumpkin juice being downed again and again.

Dumbledore took a breath. “The champion representing Durmstrang Academy is Viktor Krum!” The hall erupted into cheers, the Durmstrangs loud yells and bangs sounding over everything else. There had been no contest for that one, Bon was sure. Because Rin had learned to think, and had requested quite a few details about the people whose names he had found on pieces of parchment.

Bon had obliged, although he could technically be called out for cheating in a roundabout way. He wasn’t invested in the tournament, but others were - and Rin had made it known that he would rather send in kids who knew at least partially what they were doing, and not those who only thought of the fame and not the blood that came before that.

Heck, he had even told Rin about the clever Miss Granger and some of the others students who couldn’t even be picked because of the age line. It must have elicited quite a few laughs in Gehenna, to have Rin read all of the stupid things his students got up to in his classes. (This included catching Crabbe and Goyle sleeping through a lecture, Granger getting every answer correct in the pre-aria exam he had provided her, and of course Fred and George Weasley, whose escapades had not been limited to only a single letter).

By the time the Great Hall had quieted down from Viktor Krum’s selection, Bon had nearly missed the second slip of paper to be caught by Dumbledore’s hand.

“For Beauxbatons, the champion is Fleur Delacour!” Another exceedingly loud roar of applause and cheers filtered through, and Bon clapped along himself. Fleur Delacour was one of the few students who had yet to attend any of his extra classes, but he figured that even with already having been chosen, he could chase her down and demand she sit in on a lecture or two, for her own good. He would hate to have a Hobgoblin take a bite out of the kid, just because she would rather practice charms instead of dusty old books.

Dumbledore waited a decent slice of time before the Goblet rumbled again, spitting out the most anticipated parchment piece in what must have been the entirety of Hogwarts’ history. “The champion for our very own Hogwarts is…” he stretched the moment of silence until even the Slytherins looked about ready to burst. “Cedric Diggory!” It was the most alarming noises and shrieks Bon had ever heard that erupted from the lips of boys and girls alike. They had the home turf to back them up, and poor Diggory from Hufflepuff was downright blushing at all the attention.

“Now if the selected champions would please follow Mr Crouch and Mr Bagman, there will be a short-” Dumbledore cut himself off abruptly, eyes peering into the flames as if they had personally offended him. They might as well have, as one last piece of parchment was flung from the Goblet so quickly that it was dying blue breath. A wooden cup with no ties to Gehenna.

Bon felt like shooting something out of frustration. He refrained, on the fact that only three strips of parchment should have been the last thing Rin did before it closed.

What Dumbledore stood with in his shaking hands was not big enough to be a letter addressed to Bon, and neither did it carry the familiar scrawl that made his stomach turn in anticipation. It was thin, slightly crispy, and although he couldn’t read the actual name on it, Bon could smell the tension in the air.

“Harry Potter.” Said Dumbledore. “Harry Potter!”

There, in the back at the Gryffindor table, surrounded by friends and those who didn’t care in particular for the boy, sat Harry Potter with a face the colour of the ash left in the Goblet of Fire. He was shaking, Bon could see that even from such a distance.

The one who did neither perfectly, nor flunked everything. The one hailed as a messiah, but who only yearned to be like his peers. It was the one wish Bon had tried to accommodate to the best of his capabilities, because he of all people knew what that kind of pressure could result in. Had seen himself thrive under it, only for it to nearly crush Rin.

The outrage was instantaneous and combustible as the words registered. “There cannot be a fourth champion! This is outrageous!” Bon couldn’t be sure if it was Karkaroff screeching or one of his students, because the noise and words blended together with the yells from Hogwarts and foreigners alike.

“Order!” Yelled Dumbledore, wand pointed at his throat. A boom in a world of sick, white noise. “Harry Potter, will you please follow Mr Crouch and Mr Ludo. Professor Suguro, you too, I’m afraid, will be needed for this.”

Oh shit. Great, he had really stepped in it now, because of course Dumbledore would be the one remembering how Bon had tried to explain how the Goblet of Fire didn’t choose by himself. He was going to be slaughtered.

They left quickly, Minerva in charge of dealing with the outrage and anger fizzling behind them. It was the coward’s way out, but Harry Potter looked very much like a coward, shivering and stricken pale at the attention.

Bon clapped him on the shoulder, causing the young wizard to jump into the air by half a foot. The exorcist kept his hand on Harry’s shoulder, fingers digging firmly into the robes underneath. There was no reason for the kid to run, not if they could fix up this clear misunderstanding - this was not the face of someone who wanted fame and glory. This was someone who feared for their life, and who didn’t crave the extra attention they had been bestowed in one, singular moment.

“Hey, it’s gonna be fine, kid. Just breathe, in and out…” Bon took a breath, making sure that Harry timed it with him. Held it and let go, held it and let go. He continued until Harry was able to stand on his feet, the quiet of the small room beyond deafening with so few people in it, compared to the Great Hall.

“This is outrageous!” Declared Karkaroff, Maxime nodding her giant head in agreement at the unexpected turn of development. Crouch was scowling, not vocal nor quiet. Bagman, on the other hand, was downright ecstatic, jumping up and down and trying to wrestle Harry from Bon’s grip.

He refused to relinquish his student to the degenerate gambler, even if it did give him a few odd looks here and there - Moody especially, but he always gave odd looks no matter whom his swivelling eye was trained on.

“I thought there were only supposed to be three champions,” said Diggory, eyes flying between Krum and Delacour as he spoke what was undoubtedly on their mind as well. Dumbledore sighed, long and hard.

“So did I, Mr Diggory, so did I. However, it appears that is not the case. What I wish to know, is how young Mr Potter managed to cross my ageline and put his name in the Goblet of Fire. Which is why I must ask, Harry, did you put down your name?”

Harry shook again, all the composure he had managed to regain flying out the window with the headmaster’s eyes directed at him. They were colder, somehow. “N-no, sir! I swear I didn’t!”

“The boy can deny it all he wants,” said headmistress Maxime, standing behind Fleur Delacour like a guardian giant. “What remains is the fact that Hogwarts now has two champions, and both Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will demand to have a second champion as well. Unless it is a new rule that the hosting school can have two champions?” She was imposing, standing guard like that and effectively blocking one of the only exists if Harry should choose to run from the entire debacle.

He couldn’t, though, even if he did try.

Crouch cleared his throat, a raspy cough following the action and making the man wince in pain. “Not at all, Madame Maxime, this is entirely unprecedented and unheard of. Never in the history of Triwizard Tournaments has there been four champions. Albeit, with that said, the magic in the Goblet of Fire is a binding magical contract, and once chosen, he or she must participate. There is no turning back from this point onward, Hogwarts will have two champions, and that will be the end of that.” Karkaroff spluttered and Fleur Delacour was decidedly not happy with the outcome of the situation, as she wore an angry scowl that twisted her otherwise imperfect lips.

“Professor Suguro, you have previously explained to most of those present in this room how the Goblet of Fire does not choose at random. Do you still stand by that statement?” Dumbledore was a fierce man when backed into a corner, and Bon was tempted to take a step back to assess his need to have Kuro in the room with him. This was getting scarily out of hand, and Harry Potter was still not taking the news very well.

Bon nodded. “Yes, Professor Dumbledore,” he added for good measure. “The one choosing the candidates for the Triwizard Tournament is the Lord of Gehenna, at the given time. In this case, that would be Okumura Rin.” No need to sugarcoat things. Besides, it was better if they directed their misplaced anger at Bon instead of Potter.

Not that Harry Potter was in a state of mind where he could appreciate the effort, but Bon was willing to do it anyway. No need to throw the kid under the bus if he could get away with a pair of clipped ears and some yelling.

Dumbledore trudged closer, one tiny step at a time until Bon felt his chest constrict and his breath becoming shorter. “By my understanding, you are familiar with this Okumura Rin?”

“That is correct, yes.” He had already explained this part earlier, dammit. “Rin is a good friend of mine, and we’ve had mail correspondence through use of the Goblet of Fire in the duration that it was active,  _ sir _ .” Bon couldn’t stop the little slip of rebelliousness that flared in him. Call it a leftover from the war, he wasn’t backing down in the face of an old wizard wearing glittering robes.

“Have, at any point in time in any given letter of yours, provided him with information about the Triwizard Tournament and its possible participants?”

Bon sighed. Ah, how he could really use a cigaret right in this moment, then he could have blown the smoke in Dumbledore’s face. “Yes.” The whispers and not quite so secretive mutterings and splutters from the different people in the room filled the otherwise awkward silence that would have followed.

Something twisted in Dumbledore’s gaze, ugly and raw behind those spectacles he hid behind. “Care to elaborate, Professor Suguro?”

He stubbed the imaginary cigarette. “Sure. Rin and I have spoken, at great lengths, about the Triwizard Tournament and who could possibly be the selected champions. He requested information on countless people, including the three first champions who are currently in this room. At no point in time did he ask for anything in regards to Mr Potter.” Bon sort of volunteered that, and in hindsight, he should probably not have shared that with his lover.

“Did Mr Okumura give any indication about who he was going to select for Triwizard Tournament, and exactly how he might have overcome the magic that should have stopped the number at three?” Dumbledore pushed ahead, full steam and no stopping in sight. Granted, he did have a headmaster and headmistress, as well as a minister, breathing down his back and demanded answers that he didn’t have.

Didn’t exactly mean that Bon had them either, though. “Never told me who he was gonna’ pick. And no, he was pretty certain about only picking three, though.” Bon shrugged his shoulders. An extra participant shouldn’t be that big of a deal, and what they should focus on was how damn reluctant Harry was being. Did it honestly look like the kid wanted to be caught in the middle of all this?

Karkaroff stomped forward, looking about as rabid as the pile of fur on his head might have been when it had been alive. “Then why would this - this Okumura personage choose a fourth champion? If he was well aware that only three should be selected, why in the world would he choose a  _ fourth _ ?” It was very much like listening to a record on repeat.

“Don’t know,” said Bon, which prompted Karkaroff to open his mouth again. “ _ However _ , why I won’t presume to know what the Hell that idiot was thinking, one thing I do know is that he usually has a reason for doing as he does. No one has ever been able to tell him exactly how to deal with things when they came our way, for good or for bad - but all of that means that while we can’t see the why or how, it’s somewhere in there.”

The room finally fell into a quiet lull at his words. He didn’t yell them, nor raised his voice. Bon had to remind himself that these people had never met the ball of energy that liked to cook, pet his cat and kiss his boyfriend in public till they both blushed themselves silly.

All they saw was an unfair advantage in Hogwarts’ favour, no matter how much Harry wished he didn’t have to be a part of it all.

Dumbledore leaned back, gaze falling from the recently hired professor who, only now, was turning out to be a bigger handful than the older wizard had previously anticipated. Mephisto was sure a curious fellow if this was the one he thought was best suited for his school. “Very well. Harry Potter will be the fourth champion of the Triwizard Tournament.”

Hang on a second, thought Bon. There was actually a way to twist this damn thing into something positive for basically all of them. “If I may, Professor Dumbledore, I think I might have a solution.” Dumbledore didn’t speak, but quirked an eyebrow and urged him to continue.

“What if I were to enroll Mr Potter as a cram school student at True Cross Academy. His studies at Hogwarts would be able to continue without interrupting, but he would represent the True Cross at the Triwizard Tournament. He would attend classes, exams and other necessary activities as any other cram school student would be required to do. This way, I get a student who would have no choice but to pay attention in my classes, and a fourth school would join the tournament roster.”

As he spoke, he saw the light appear on Durmstrang and Beauxbatons’ faces as they realised the drastic drop of success it would mean for Hogwarts. Dumbledore was less than amused, his brows furrowed and skin pulled taught. No doubt calculating the chance of Hogwarts winning going from fifty percent to only twentyfive.

Still, Bon saw no reason why the old man should refuse. If he choose to accept the offer, not only would the funding be better, but it would also effectively appease the angry vultures of a headmaster and headmistress, both scratching and tearing at his turned back.

He had no choice to accept, and Bon knew that just as well as Dumbledore. Harry had yet to show any sort of reaction to the unfolding future taking place in front of him.

“Very well, Professor Suguro, you drive a hard bargain. Harry Potter will remain a fulltime student at Hogwarts, attending the cram classes that you deem necessary for him, as long as it does not interfere with his regular life here at the castle. I trust that you will inform headmaster Mephisto of True Cross Academy by yourself and tell him the news.” He shook Bon’s hand with a smile and more force behind it than what should have been permitted.

The exorcist was never one to back down from a challenge. “Sounds like we have ourselves a deal, Professor Dumbledore. I’ll go inform Mephisto Pheles right after a brief discussion with Mr Potter on how his days will be spent from now on. Harry, if you would walk with me, please?” Bon squeezed the last ounce of strength he had into the handshake, letting it fall from his grasp and turning around on the spot.

Bon didn’t dart for the door. He chose instead to stroll at a slow enough pace that Harry could follow him, even as shaken as he was.

Dumbledore patted Harry on the shoulder before he could take his leave to follow the professor, a good luck resting in the worry lines on his forehead. “I do believe this belongs to you, Harry.” He stuck the piece of parchment with Harry’s name on it into the hands of the confused youth.

Harry gave a little nod, darting from the room before they could start to question him again without Bon in the room. He didn’t have to necessarily run to catch up, as the exorcist hadn’t made it terribly far down the corridor by the time Harry managed to get out.

“Professor Suguro, what does this mean? For my classes, for my friends?” For me?

It went without saying that Harry would be beyond scared at the unexpected development. Heck, Bon would have been too, and he wasn’t above saying he hadn’t been caught off guard more than once or twice by a particularly nasty cram school exam.

“Don’t worry too much, kiddo.” Said Bon, ruffling Harry’s raven locks. “Lectures won’t be  _ that _ dull, and we won’t throw you in a pit with demons. That would be when you’re a full fledged exorcist.” He laughed. Harry didn’t.

Before he could tell the kid to relax and not die on him, Harry turned over the tiny piece of parchment in his hand and stopped walking. “Professor Suguro,” said Harry, tugging at Bon’s uniform until he stopped walking. “I think this is for you.”

On the other side of Harry’s name, with small inked letters, was a message that made Bon’s heart soar into his throat.

 

_ Wait for me, Bon. _

_ I’ll see you soon. _

 

Typical.

Okumura Rin always had to have the last word… 

**Author's Note:**

> Headcanon - Satan has always been the one choosing the Champions, based on whims - laughing in Gehenna about how the humans of Assiah could think him an impartial judge, and not realise who they were entrusting their lives to.
> 
> This plot bunny made a burrow in my brain two years ago, and only now decided to emerge from hibernation in time for Christmas. Praise Jesus.


End file.
